Spain's swift transition from one-man rule
toward democracy seems to astonish every
one. Will this change go all the way? And
will it produce stability, with relatively few
losing their lives and none their property?
That would be without parallel in Spanish
history, if not in the history of the world.
ON PALM SUNDAY in Toledo, the car
dinal primate of Spain declares that
faith is still the greatest need. He says
the greatest danger is the Devil.
Monday in the provincial capital of Val
ladolid, a young man in green cloak and
white gloves adjusts his two-foot-high black
hood, emblems of the brotherhood of Our
Lady of the True Cross. It dates from 1498.
Why is he here? "Because I feel it."
Valladolid is noted for its museum of
polychrome saints: fine carvings amazingly
painted, ultra-lifelike. Look into St. Paul's
mouth, you'll see discolored teeth and a tex
tured tongue; crystal over his eyes makes
them shine. Teenagers pause before a mar
tyred Christ by Gregorio Fernndez. A girl
gasps, "iPobre! Poor fellow!" Spaniards feel
familiar with their God. It's from the heart
-like the fervor of the Counter-Reformation
that burst from 16th-century Spain.
At dusk on Holy Tuesday in the provincial
capital of Cuenca, trumpets and drums pre
cede floats slowly swaying uphill, carrying
saints and flowers and candles. The weight of
the floats is distributed among dozens of
hooded carriers--about a hundred pounds
per man; each pays for the privilege. The
brotherhoods' cloaks are violet or white,
their hoods green or garnet or gold. Onlookers
crowd streets, windows, and balconies,
quietly. Some following the floats wear un
pointed hoods; one, apparently a woman,
carries a baby in a red snowsuit. She walks
barefoot on the cobblestones.
These are all cities of the Meseta, the most
ly arid tablelands of central Spain. At its
Glory by the chestful glitters at a
Madrid ceremony. Between the gloves
of a vice admiral shines the Cross of
Naval Merit, First Class. Spain's
armed forces, traditionally guarantors
of stability, view any redistribution
of power with wary eyes.
center sprawls Madrid (map, pages 302-303),
with four million inhabitants; one million
are away on Holy Week vacations.
From Cuenca I drive toward the Mediter
ranean-southeast to Benidorm, the beach
favored by many from Madrid (page 304).
After Villanueva de la Jara, famous for mush
rooms, and Tarazona de la Mancha, prolific
in wine and sheep cheese ("best when aged in
olive oil"), I descend to Albacete, famous for
cutlery. Here begin the extra-fertile lands
called huertas, intensely irrigated for fruit.
National Geographic,March 1978
300